


What's Wrong, My Love?

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur are in a secret relationship. Merlin's out, Arthur's not, and Merlin's not so sure that he can deal with this anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Wrong, My Love?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronherm1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronherm1/gifts).



> For The Merlin Arts Fest - week 5, written prompt: Is everything perfect? Is everything unperfect? Or am I just confused and conflicted?
> 
> Dedicated to Roma because she's a sweetling :D (so sorry Roma, this is not what you're expecting.)
> 
> This work is unbetaed. Any mistake is mine and mine alone.

Merlin sat alone on a table at the corner of The Rising Sun, evidently in a bad mood if the solemn expression glued to his face was anything to go by. He was cradling a glass of whiskey in his hand, rotating his wrist skilfully as he eyed the liquid and found solace in the swirls that the motion brought. He’d been so tired as of late. Keeping the secret of his and Arthur’s relationship had slowly, but surely, drained the chirpy, _Merlin-esque_ light out of him, and he wasn’t sure of how much longer he could keep doing this.

With a hefty exhale, Merlin brought his forefinger and thumb up towards his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Throwing caution to the wind, Merlin downed his glass and let the burning sensation fizz up inside his throat, spreading through his veins like wildfire.

Yes - _Yes._ He had needed this so badly. Because now he could forget, he could forget Arthur. (And then remember him again in the morning with a pounding hangover, but Merlin didn’t particularly care for the repercussions of his actions right now.) He could forget about Arthur’s stupid smile and how upon seeing it, a sticky lump always formed in his throat and made him feel as though he was drinking molten gold. He could forget about those lips, oh so perfect, kissable lips, and the way his skin blazed when Arthur drew their mouths together and shoved his tongue deep inside. He could forget about Arthur’s stupid hair and his stupid laugh, and boy would Merlin be glad to forget about Arthur’s devastatingly hideous taste in music.

Merlin ordered himself another drink.

The entire thing was completely ridiculous. Merlin couldn’t understand why he’d agreed to keeping his and Arthur’s relationship secret in the first place. He was out and proud, dammit. He deserved to flaunt to the world about how in love he was. He should be able to hold his partners hand in public and steal kisses wherever he pleased. Shouldn’t he?

Merlin glanced to his right. Gritting his teeth almost murderously as he watched Arthur grind against a blond woman and trail his fingers all over her body. Something akin to a growl rose from deep within Merlin’s chest, and it physically ached to know there was nothing he could do to stop the ordeal.  But such was life now, and it had been like that for quite a while.

Merlin had thought it would be perfect. And really, it was exactly that at first. Arthur would take him on the most marvellous outings, from rock-climbing to arcades to moonlit picnics. Merlin’s favourite though, were the many times they swam together in the lake of Avalon. Surrounded by wildflowers and nothing more, it was always just the two of them. Being kissed by the silky water, being kissed by the warmth of the beating sun-rays, being kissed by _Arthur_ ; it was the happiest Merlin had ever been.

He had been okay with not telling his mother or his best friend Will. He was very much aware that Arthur wasn’t ready to come out of the closet, and he had had every intention of waiting for Arthur to come to terms with who he was before they took that leap.

But then everything took a turn for the worse and landed in a never-ending downwards spiral.

Their friends had noticed that neither Merlin nor Arthur had taken to anyone in the last several months, and as Gwaine had so eloquently put it, it was a friend’s duty to make sure they both did not lead sexless lives. And so Gwaine, with the help of Morgana, set up a string of blind dates for the both of them.

Of course, Merlin hadn’t shown up for any of his, and he’d thought Arthur had done the same. But that was until he’d walked into Camelot’s restaurant one evening to celebrate his mother’s birthday, only to find _his_ Arthur on a date with a _girl_.

His mother had never understood why Merlin was in such a haste to leave that night.

The confrontation had come a few weeks after, with Merlin demanding to know just what Arthur was playing at, _because how was that not cheating?_ But Arthur had begged Merlin to understand, clutching desperately onto the fabric of Merlin’s shirt as he explained that he was only going to go on one date with each girl, that it didn’t mean anything, that he needed to do this to keep their friends and his father off his back, and that _it’s only you Merlin, I’ll only ever want you._

And that’s how Merlin found himself at the pub every Friday night for the past four months. With all his friends paired up, giddy and basking in the glory of love, and Arthur nuzzling into the neck of his latest pick, whilst Merlin slumped into an uncomfortable seat and nursed drink after drink, alone.

 _Fuck this,_ Merlin thought as he poured the entire contents of his drink into his mouth. He bolted out of his chair and perused the room for someone suitable. Leaning against the back wall, Merlin caught sight of a lean, brunette bloke looking directly at him, a teasing smirk plastered on his pale face. Arthur wasn’t the only one who could pick a victim.

Merlin made his way over as smoothly as he could, straining to keep himself from tripping over his own two feet. Once he’d managed that, the man peered up at Merlin, running his eyes appreciatively over Merlin’s lithe frame and said, “What can I do for you?”

“D-dance with me.”

Merlin knew he was well and truly pissed, but he couldn’t really care about that now. The bloke didn’t seem to mind either, taking one of Merlin’s hands to pull him into the crowd.

The two men moved their bodies together, shifting in time with the blaring of the music. The other man grinded against Merlin, his body pressed delectably against Merlin’s back.

“I’m.. I’m Merlin.” Merlin yelled through the music.

“Merlin, s’pretty,” the bloke murmured into his neck, and Merlin couldn’t help but dislike the way the name rolled of his tongue. It wasn’t right. Too… _not Arthur._

Merlin shook the thought away almost as quickly as it came. He wouldn’t dwell on Arthur tonight. It was going to be an Arthur-free night. He would much prefer to focus on the present, where he could feel the music’s thud tickling his toes, the care-free air clinging to his bones, and a very handsome man sliding his arms down Merlin’s side.

“You didn’t tell me your name.” Merlin stated.

The bloke smiled coyly, turning Merlin around so that they were face to face. He slowly inched closer. “My name,” He breathed against Merlin’s mouth, darting his tongue out to trace the bottom lip. “My name i-”

Merlin didn’t get a chance to hear the end of that. Instead, he felt hard fingers seizing his wrist, towing him away from the deliciously handsome brunette. He should be alarmed, but there was a delicate protectiveness to the touch, and Merlin didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“G-get off, you pr…you prat!” Merlin stammered, and it was only then that he began to feel the effects of the booze fully kicking in.

Arthur didn’t say anything back, opting to keep silent as he dragged Merlin through a body of people, the heat making both their skin damp and slightly glisten.

Merlin huffed loudly, making sure it was well in Arthur’s hearing range. Who did the prat think he was?

Finally, Arthur turned the door knob into the bathroom and situated them both inside, taking his hand back instantly as if Merlin’s hand was some sort of poison.

Attempting to keep himself from toppling over, Merlin pressed his back against a sink, Arthur several paces away, just out of arms reach. They both glared at each other, Arthur in outrage and Merlin in his drunken stupor.

What the hell was that?” Arthur boomed, and though his posture held a frantic aura, his eyes screamed hurt and panic.

 _Psht. Good._ Let Arthur suffer. What did Merlin care? It’s not like Arthur gave a damn about him anyway.

“I was… I was h-having fun. Yeah, that was fuuuuun.” Merlin pouted, “Y-you ruined it, clotpole!”

“God, Merlin, how much did you drink?” Arthur inquired.

Merlin didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on Arthur; a pleading desperation interweaved into the blue orbs. Merlin wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. How was any of this fair? He’s the victim here, not Arthur. And yet the look on Arthur’s face instantly made him feel guilty over almost kissing another man, and he felt the weight of it sitting heavily on his limbs.

Arthur was such a prat. Why did Merlin have to love this man out of all the possibilities?

But even still, Merlin, right now, wanted nothing more than to rewind a couple of months back to when Arthur was fully his and he didn’t have to share him with anyone.

“You d-don’t make any senth- sen…sense,” Merlin stuttered, shaking his head vigorously, “You make, you make me _…” You make me laugh. You make me cry. You make us perfect. You make this impossible._

Arthur lost his patience then. “Spit it out, Merlin. What’s going on with you? You’ve been so withdr-”

“You make me sad.”

And it was true. Arthur was making him miserable.

Merlin slumped, only hearing a deafening clanging in his head as everything stilled around him, with only Arthur in his blurred vision. Arthur’s face, looking as he’d been trampled over by a bulldozer, made Merlin crumple to the cold, marble ground. And then Merlin began to sob, burying his face in his palms. He’d thought Arthur had left him there to pathetically cry alone, and just as he was about to lift his head to check, he felt one arm snake around his back, the other tucked against the bend of Merlin’s knees. There was a bit of shuffling as Arthur manoeuvred them around, finally setting Merlin into his lap.

Merlin didn’t know anything anymore. He didn’t know what was to become of them, or whether he’d ever stop crying, dammit. But he was in Arthur’s arms, listening to the soothing “Shhhh, I love you. I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you.” breathed into his ears, and he was going to savour this moment if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Curling both his arms around Arthur’s neck, Merlin cried into Arthur’s chest until sleep whisked him away.

**

As soon as Merlin woke, he knew he was over at Arthur’s. His own mattress at home wasn’t nearly as comfortable as this.

Despite the bitch of a hangover, Merlin grinned, eyes still hooded, as he skimmed his fingers against the sheets in search of Arthur. He was a little fazed; Arthur normally didn’t leave any room for Merlin to breathe when they slept together. It was then, as he was struck by the emptiness of the bed, that Merlin recalled the previous night. His hand stilled momentarily before clenching into the sheets, a mantra of “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” playing dauntingly in his head.

Merlin yanked the blankets off his body and kicked them into the corner of the bed, not wasting a second as he stumbled out of the room, only to find himself halting to a stop at the staircase.

Merlin tried to keep his breathing even, but it was a vain attempt. He slid down until he was sitting on the top stair, pressing his head violently against the wall. Merlin tried to keep himself calm, but his entire body was wracked in shock, quivering uncontrollably as he blinked back his tears.

How had everything become this disastrous? How did something so perfect fade into relics of nothing? Merlin could still taste those days on his tongue, like honeycomb melting against the roof of his mouth. _Take me back,_ Merlin thought, _When I had hope that we'd be okay someday._

A voice snapped Merlin out of his reverie.

“You’re awake.”

Merlin opened his eyes, moving his head to look down at Arthur standing at the foot of the staircase, still in last night’s attire. Merlin could clearly see the red puffs around Arthur’s eyes, evidence that he’d had a rough, sleepless night. Looking down at his palms, Merlin swallowed thickly and tried to keep himself from hyperventilating.

He’d made up his mind.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” Merlin said, “And I’m also leaving.”

Merlin flew down the flight of the stairs, dodging Arthur as he stumbled towards the coat rack, shrugging on his leather jacket. He scanned the room for his shoes, spotting one near the coffee table and the other in the corner of the room. He needed to get out before he talked himself out of this.

“What? You can’t leave yet. We need to talk, Merlin,” Arthur urged, following Merlin around as he paced around the flat, not really knowing what he was looking for.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Arthur looked stricken at that, but he tried to mask it with a blank face, and that’s exactly what Merlin hated. Arthur was always hiding, and in his doing, he dragged others under the veil too. Merlin was very much in love with Arthur, he was. But their relationship was becoming toxic and Merlin needed  to leave while he could.

“Merlin, will you just…” Arthur said exasperatedly, “Okay, okay fine. Cool off, yeah? I can come by for dinner with takeaway, we can tal-”

“No,” Merlin shook his head brutishly, “I’m leaving, Arthur.”

For a moment, nothing happened. It was just the tick of the clock reminding Merlin that _this_ , this was reality. And then a sharp intake of breath echoed inside the room as the meaning behind Merlin’s words dawned on Arthur.

“Do you- Are you, are we breaking up?”

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur looked like he was going to be sick. Merlin too felt like puking his guts out. His head was thrashing from both the idea of being separate from Arthur and the hangover that he still needed to talk painkillers for.

Merlin inhaled one last scent of Arthur’s home, an unearthly mixture of aftershave and cookies. He turned towards the door, reaching out for the knob and -

“No! Merls, please no!” Arthur cried out, running towards Merlin and taking hold of his wrists, swirling him around so that they were facing each other. “Please, please don’t go. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, I’ll fix it. Just please, please don’t go.”

Merlin laughed sourly. “Tell you what you did… God, you don’t know, do you?” Yeah,  Merlin definitely had to leave.

“How can I know if you don’t tell me?”

Merlin increased his laughter, adding a hysterical edge to it, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe Arthur’s masking habits were rubbing off on him too, because all he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up.  

“I’ll let you figure that one out on your own, Arth.”

Merlin yanked his hands free from Arthur’s clutch. He’d barely moved an inch before Arthur fell to his knees , clutching the fabric around Merlin’s side and cocooning his tear-streaked face into Merlin’s stomach.

“Stay with me,” Arthur whispered hoarsely.

Merlin fought hard to drown out Arthur’s broken sobs. It took all the strength he had left not to take back his decision.

Merlin crouched down and cupped Arthur’s right cheek with one hand, combing his hair back with the other. Gently, he placed a kiss against Arthur’s forehead. “Goodbye, Arthur.” And then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> okay yeah, this is definitely not the greatest thing written. i'm kind of going through a writer's block at the moment so apologies if it doesn't have enough flesh. but i hope you enjoyed it anyway!


End file.
